


how (not) to get back at your deadbeat dad

by Anonymous



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Revenge Sex, Sex Tapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 23:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17192387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He almost decides not to watch the video, but his curiosity gets the best of him, and his half-drunk mind wants to know who the blurry figures in the thumbnail are. He presses play.The first thing he sees is Jughead.





	how (not) to get back at your deadbeat dad

**Author's Note:**

> written for the kink meme prompt: 
> 
> Jughead hates FP. His Dad's still a drinker, violent, and all round terrible father. He goes to FP's enemies wanting to get his own back and is persuaded by them to make a gangbang sex tape. The gang know FP will be furious seeing his precious baby boy Jughead taking their cocks and loving it.
> 
> Could be,   
> a) Serpents, FP's been kicked out of the gang  
> b) Ghoulies  
> c) some random ass gang
> 
> At least 3 guys/Jughead, maybe the main players in the gang. You can use any of the male characters in the show and make them a gang member, or just invent new characters for the kink. Lots of dirty talk, just treating and using Jughead roughly, really filthy, sloppy BJs, brutal fucking, getting Jughead to speak to the camera, daddy kink always welcome/mentioning FP, facials, super submissive, slutty Jug, cum play etc.

 

FP’s half sober and barely awake when he gets it.

He feels his phone buzz somewhere in his peripheral, and feels for it blindly. Blinks blearily down at the screen. It’s a text, from an unknown number, with an attachment. He frowns, and puts in his passcode.

It’s a video, he sees. The thumbnail is blurry, so he can’t see what it’s a video of. He doesn’t recognize the number it’s from.

_Who is this?_ He types out.

There’s a few moments where he watches the three dots move: _Just some friends of yours. We made you a present._

The words sound mocking, even through the phone. He rubs at his eyes, and decides not to answer. He almost decides not to watch the video, but his curiosity gets the best of him, and his half-drunk mind wants to know who the blurry figures in the thumbnail are.

He grabs the half empty bottle from the table, settles into the couch, and presses play.

He almost immediately chokes on his beer.

The first thing he sees is Jughead. His son, his boy, on his knees in some trashy room he’s never seen before. The camera is tilted down, from above, like the person behind it is standing above him. His jackets is hanging off his shoulders, and his belt is undone. What the fuck?

“Got it rolling,” the person behind the camera says—a man, with a vaguely familiar voice, “You can start.”

Almost immediately, someone steps into frame and tangles a hand in Jughead’s hair. Tugs his head back a little—the most shocking thing is that Jughead lets it happen. He looks a little nervous, but he also looks kind of excited. What the fuck, he thinks for the second time. Who they fuck are these people? When did this happen? What is his son doing? The one thing he knows is that he does not like where this is going.

The guy with his hand in Jughead’s hair unzips his pants. No. He doesn’t like this at all.

For some reason, some sick, morbid curiosity, FP finds he can’t look away. He can’t look away as the rando takes out his cock and drags the tip over Jughead’s lips, as Jughead opens his mouth and lets the man feed him his cock.

The camera jerks around like it’s being handed off, and then the shot is bearing down completely on his son—held by the guy who’s cock in in his mouth. FP watches the bastard dig his hands into Jughead’s hair and tug him further onto his dick; Jughead chokes, but he just holds him there until he catches his breath. Zooms in on his lips, the way they’re stretched wide around his cock, the way he flushes all the way down to his neck—things he never wanted or needed to know.

“Yeah, just like that,” the man says, “You’re good at this—you sure you’re a BJ virgin, Juggie?”

“Of course he is,” someone says off screen, “No way FP would let his precious little boy suck dick.”

The man behind the camera laughs, “Well won’t he be surprised.” He tugs Jug up and down on his cock a few more times, before deciding to hold his head still and fuck his mouth instead. He groans deep, and pulls out quickly.

“Gonna paint your pretty face for your daddy,” he breathes, and then does. “Say hi.”

“Hi dad,” Jug says, voice all wrecked, as the man’s cum catches on his lips, drips down his chin. A thumb dips into frame to smear it across his cheek; Jug stares straight into the camera as he says it, like he’s looking right at FP.

His breath catches in his throat, heart skipping a beat as dread settles in his stomach. This is for him, he realizes with sudden clarity. To fuck with him. And his son is going along with it—it might have damn well been Jughead’s idea, the petty, dirty little brat.

“My turn, baby,” someone else says—and FP knows the voice this time. Anger fills him immediately—it’s a bastard he kicked out of the gang last year—James? Jim?—a fucker who made comments about wanting to fuck his son within FP’s earshot.

Jughead turns to him, the fucker that FP told him specifically never to talk to, and opens his mouth for his cock.

“Good boy,” the nasty fucker moans, “Wanted to do this since the minute I saw you, but your daddy wanted to keep you all to himself. Kept you all to himself and didn’t even treat you right, did he?”

Like he could treat him better, like he was better than FP in any way. FP fumes, but still can’t look away. Imagines driving up to his trailer and knocking him square in the jaw, maybe kicking him right in the dick while he’s at it.

“Hey,” he says to someone off screen, “Get him ready, huh?”

FP’s heart freezes; its not enough to just have him such them off? They have to fuck him, too? His boy, his little boy, moaning around the cock in his mouth and some dirty asshole shoving his fingers up his ass—the camera pans down and he can see it. Not all of it, but enough, watches the man’s thick fingers thrust in and out of his son. He pulls out, drizzles some more lub on his fingers and shoves back in; crooks his fingers just right and Jug gasps. The James-Jim asshole takes the opportunity to force his cock further down Jug’s throat, laughing when he chokes around it.

“Take it,” He says, holding Jug’s hair tight in his big hands, “Show daddy how good you are at sucking cock—natural little whore, aren’t you? Daddy’s little slut.”

He thrusts leisurely a few more times, zooming in on Jug’s fluttering eyelashes and flushed cheeks, and then “Open wide,” the asshole says, and cums into Jug’s open mouth, tilting his head back and painting his face a second time.

“How’s it taste?”

“Tastes good, dad,” his voice is even more fucked than before, and he’s talking right to FP. Fucking lord above, but his cock twitches in his pants.

The men laugh, and then someone else is unzipping their pants and pushing Jug forward onto his hands and knees.

“You ready for my cock?” A new voice asks, deep and gravely.

Jug swallows, and nods.

“Lemme hear you say it.”

“I—I’m ready for your cock.”

The man grips Jughead’s hips, holds him still and pushes in slow slow steady and then all at once, snapping his hips forward and making Jug yelp. More of the man’s body come into frame when his weight forces Jug further forwards, and FP feels rage flood though his veins. It’s a Ghoulie. Malachi’s right hand fucking man, who has FP’s fucking son on his knees, taking his cock up his ass. His son sought him out, his son probably set this up, knowing that FP would see it.

“Tell your daddy how it feels,” the Ghoulie says, tilting his chin up so he’s staring up at the camera. “Tell him how it feels to take Ghoulie cock.”

“Feels good,” Jug breathes, breathless and completely without shame, “Feel so full.”

“You little slut,” the Ghoulie says, sounding positively fucking gleeful. He fucks him hard and rough, forcing him down into his elbows until that Jim assholetugs him up by his hair, just to point the camera at his face again. Cum drying on his chin, eyes glassy and looking absolutely fucked out as he takes Ghoulie cock on camera for his father to see. Jesus H fucking Christ.

“You think your daddy’s enjoying this? Think FP likes watching his little boy get fucked?”

Jug doesn’t seem like he particularly likes the idea, but he doesn’t object to it. Just moans again as the Ghoulie hits somewhere deep inside him. The Ghoulie takes advantage of this, angling Jug’s hips up and thrusting hard and fast.

“Call me daddy,” the fucker says, grinning into the camera, like he’s looking right into FP’s eyes.

“D-Daddy,” Jug says, almost shy despite how much he’s already done.

“Louder.”

“Daddy,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut, “Oh, daddy, please!”

They keep going like that, the Ghoulie fucking FP’s boy right into the ground, until Jug moans long and loud, arches his back and cums onto the floor below him. The Ghoulie doesn’t last much longer, thrusting in a few more times as Jug slumps forwards like a rag doll, burying his face in his elbow.

The camera shuffles around some more, changes angels, to catch the way Jug’s ass looks when the fucker pulls out. FP’s fists clench so hard he thinks he might draw blood. He’s gonna kill them—all of them, the assholes who fucked his son and his maybe even his son himself for putting this shit together.

The camera pans back to Jug’s face as he’s tugged up one last time. The man behind the camera traces his bottom lip, cum-and-spit soaked.

“Pretty boy. Say bye, daddy.”

Jug smiles up at the camera—at FP—all sleepy and sated. “Bye, daddy.”

The man behind the camera laughs one last time, and then the screen goes black.

The only thing he hears for a long moment is the sound of his own heavy breathing and the rage and shock building in his chest. He can’t believe what he just watched, what they just did.

Jesus Christ.

His phone buzzes.

_Did you like your gift?_ The new text reads. 

He finally snaps, and throws his fucking phone across the room.

 


End file.
